


Disturbance in the Gallows

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, but it's heading there, not quite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: His friends corner Fenris to question him on his (obviously not as secret as he thought) affair with Anders.Little do they know Anders is right outside the door, listening to every single word.





	Disturbance in the Gallows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arpad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arpad/gifts).



> Gift for @primaryconsumer for @fendersassoc's Wintersend Exchange 
> 
> I went with fanfic request 2 but included one of the scenes you mentioned in request 1, because it fit the story...and also because it was just too hilarious to pass up. I hope you like it, and Happy Wintersend to you!

 “So, Fenris, what’s going on between you and Anders?”

_Bam,_ and Anders was flat against the wall.

_Oh Maker have mercy, how did they find out???_

Just one moment, one split second later, and he’d already have stepped through the door, straight into Varric’s suite – and this gaatlok-filled question Hawke had flung at Fenris’ feet with a casualness that was way too obvious to be genuine. It had been sheer luck that he’d managed to duck out of sight before anyone noticed him, and it would be foolish to test that luck by not quietly getting the void out of there right about now – but it would be just as foolish not to gather information on just how fast he’d have to flee town first.

Straining his ears, he made himself as small as possible and carefully inched closer to the door.

“Excuse me?”

“Orsino had an… _interesting_ story to tell when I went to see him yesterday. Made me wish I’d gone to the Gallows more often. Apparently, he’s been sitting on that one for a while, the poor guy was so relieved to finally have someone to tell it to. He seemed rather unsettled, and it’s not exactly easy to rattle him, what with him facing the shiny blond terror that is Meredith every day….”

“Oh yes, that silver fox has seen things,” Isabela said in a purring sing-song from somewhere further to the back of the room. “You can tell by his eyes. Oh the things those pretty eyes must have seen...”

“Sounds like someone wants to take a ride on a certain First Enchanter’s staff.”

Thank the Maker Hawke was so easily derailed. With a bit of luck, this might well be the end of it.

“You know me, I like big weapons. And now that Fenris’ mighty sword is taken…”

_Andraste’s frilly nightgowns, damn it all to the Void and back_.

With the life he’d had, he should have known better than to hope – and he definitely should have known better than to hope when Isabela “eyes on the target at all times” was around.

As if on cue, she added, “He _is_ taken, isn’t he? Or is our golden mage boy willing to share? A girl’s gotta know these things…”

All that met Anders’ still-straining ears was silence. A silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

_Andraste’s regrettable life choices, he’s going to kill them, isn’t he, and then he’s going to find me and kill me too…._

“I”—Fenris took a long time clearing his throat—“am not currently looking for new partners.”

_He sounds calm. Well, relatively speaking. Awkward, but calm. I might survive this after all. Perhaps he’ll simply go back to ignoring me…_

He tried his best to push down the sting that thought brought, as piercing as whatever was digging into his back (given their location, it was most likely some sort of giant metal spike, and most definitely rusty and/or bloody… _Well, good thing I’m a healer._ )

“’New’ partners, hm?” Hawke descended on his prey without mercy. “As opposed to old, or maybe _current_ , ones? Going by what Orsino says he saw…” He trailed off, letting his voice drop meaningfully.

_Oh come on, you’ve_ met _Hawke, haven’t you, silence won’t help you._

Nevertheless, Fenris tried valiantly. You had to admire his stubbornness. Anders would have long caved, yet Fenris simply sat it out, forcing Hawke to go for a more powerful attack.

“He painted a pretty vivid picture there: you behind the Knight Commander’s desk and a rather debauched spectacle on top of it.”

_Ah yes, the Knight Commander’s desk…_

Anders bit back a chuckle as he wondered if she’d had the opportunity to marvel at the underside’s new paint job yet. Perhaps she’d even gripped it between her hands for support as she casually ordered more crimes against innocent mages?

Fenris sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope that a mage would be able to keep his mouth shut, First Enchanter or not.”

“Well, one mage sure did. Blondie didn’t breathe a single word about this.” _That’s right, you tell him Varric!_ “And he’s not usually one to keep things in, even if he wants to. That dog of yours is a better liar than he is.”

_Oh, is that so? Well, just you wait until you come crawling to my clinic because you splashed ink into your eyes again._

“He didn’t tell _me_ either.” Anders didn’t need to see Hawke to know that he was pouting. “Not only did he not mention your…adventures, I didn’t even know you two had been to the Gallows. Just how exactly did you even end up there?”

“He insisted I accompany him on one of his foolish trips to free mages. To see ‘the horrors of the Circle with my own bigoted eyes’. I believe those were his words.”

“He…trusted _you_ with information on his secret routes in and out of the Gallows?”

_Yes, I did. Believe me, Hawke, I was as surprised as you are._

“Apparently.”

“And you…agreed to go with him.”

“Evidently.”

Yes. That had been the biggest surprise of all.

 

* * *

 

“The _Templar_ barracks. _That’s_ where your escape route leads to?” Fenris hissed from somewhere close to his ear. While it offered protection from the eyes of the Templars currently patrolling the hallway, the storeroom they’d snuck into couldn’t exactly be called spacious.

“It’s the place where you’re least likely to actually encounter a Templar, they’re far too busy watching the mages’ every step. And it may shock you, Fenris, but I did not personally build these tunnels. Whoever did—“

“Slaves. In case you forgot who built this _entire_ city.”

Anders had to summon up every last shred of his willpower not to snap at him. There was no point in shouting and arguing. He’d brought Fenris along to change his mind; if this place didn’t do the trick, his words certainly wouldn’t. Also, he was pretty sure those Templars still hadn’t rounded the corner. “You’re right. _Slaves._ Just like the ones kept here now. What you’re about to see is going to show you once and for all that this is exactly what they are.”

He turned his upper body around to shoot Fenris’ a meaningful (and only a tiny bit triumphant) look – and almost knocked over a pile of barrels in the process.

“With all the noise you are making, what I am about to see will more likely be you being dragged away by angry Templars,” Fenris drawled softly as he reached out a hand to keep them from crashing to the floor.

Anders managed to hold his tongue until he was _absolutely_ sure the patrol had passed them by, but that was as far as his patience with the prickly bastard would go. Raising his voice slightly more than was probably wise, he hissed, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, I bet seeing them clap me in irons would be the first thing to actually bring a smile on your face.”

Fenris merely shrugged. “It would certainly change my mind about this place’s efficiency.”

Anders lost his temper. He was only a man (or as Fenris would put it, a _mage_ ), after all. “Is that why you agreed to come? It is, isn’t it, it’s all just part of a trap to…”

Of course, this had all been too good to be true. Even if they’d been on slightly better terms lately, what with card nights and mutual complaining about Hawke’s constant fussing, he’d been a fool to believe Fenris would _actually_ agree to come along to the Gallows (and help _smuggle out mages_ , for crying out loud). He’d been a fool to even ask him. And now he’d endangered not only himself but the whole mage underground. Of course, he’d only shown Fenris that _one_ tunnel, the one they rarely used, and taken care not to mention that there were several others (if only he had known of their existence before Karl…No. _NO_. Not now.) But…what if they checked? What if Fenris had seen right through him? Anders hadn’t even told Hawke about this plan; no one would ever know what had happened to him. No ransacked clinic, no uproar in Darktown, no signs of a fight, just a quiet disappearance and the brand on his forehead. Maybe Fenris had even arranged to be the one to do it, as a reward for bringing in a dangerous apostate, to take revenge for what his former master did to him… _I know some mages who deserve that._ Mages like _him_ , the _abomination_. Fenris had called him that, once. Twice. Years ago, sure, but he should never have forgotten, shouldn’t have trusted…

“It was a _joke_ , Anders.”

It wasn’t so much a statement as the verbal equivalent of an eye roll, and it slammed right into Anders’ increasingly frantic thoughts.

“Oh.” To say he felt foolish would have been the understatement of the age.

“Indeed.” Those brows were weapons both mocking and menacing, and impossible to parry.

“So…you would not…watch gleefully?”

“I would not let them take you.”

“Really? I thought you—“

“I do not betray…Hawke’s friends.” Fenris cleared his throat, rather awkwardly if Anders was any judge. “It would be a waste of time and efforts, as he would insist on breaking you out. And he’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Anders opened the door just a crack and peered into the empty hallway, less to check for Templars than to give himself an excuse not to look at Fenris.

“I see.”

The hall lay quiet before them. A few steps ahead, the door to an empty office stood ajar. Motioning for Fenris to follow, Anders quickly snuck across the hall, slipped inside and closed the door behind them. They crept towards the window, staying close to the floor, lifting their heads just high enough to peer outside. In the courtyard below, most of the Templars were already lined up for Meredith’s monthly inspection, with a few still making their way out of the barracks. Except for a few Tranquil still manning their stalls, there was not a single mage in sight. Confining them to their quarters for the duration of the inspection, if not longer - typical. He could feel Justice’s rage mingle with his own at the edges of his mind and tried to remind him – and himself - that as unjust as this was, it would at least it would make it easier to find the mages they were supposed to get out. There would only be a handful of guards patrolling the mage tower, and the ones in charge of the barracks had just passed them by and would need at least an hour to complete their round. So far, so perfect. Now all that was left to do was wait until the last stragglers managed to get their shiny metal asses out of bed and the whole lot of them left for the training grounds.

He leaned his head against the wall, still avoiding Fenris’ eyes. So he _did_ have help after all. The elf might not have joined with the express purpose of aiding him, but he would defend him if necessary. Which was more than could be said of almost everyone else in his life. For once, Anders was not alone in this rotten prison, or the dark tunnels that seemed to close further in on you with each step. He had a warrior at his side. And not just any warrior either, one that could tear straight through a Templar’s chest and rip out their cruel, merciless heart, toss it at their comrades’ feet as he bared his teeth in a snarl, all controlled rage and fire, raining on those murderers and rapists, these thieves of children, destroyers of everything that was good and pure. They wouldn’t even know what hit them.

_Go on, smite me you bastards, enjoy your brief illusion of victory as I lie convulsing on the floor, that blue flash of power and fury is going to be the last thing you see. Well,_ he thought grimly, _that and your still-beating heart, as he lifts it in front of your face with a taunting smirk. He’ll tear through your ranks like a knife through butter, he’ll drown us in your blood to keep me safe. Those cowards aren’t trained to fight people who can actually defend themselves, all they know is smite, then strike. But you can’t smite Fenris’ blade, can’t silence those fists. They’ll never see it coming…_

“You’re gone again,” said a bored voice to his left. “Or is this foolish grin a sign of your demon taking over?”

The tone didn’t betray any actual suspicion, so Anders decided to let it slide. There was neither use nor fun in another lesson on the difference between spirits and demons. Impertinent teasing, on the other hand…that might prove fun indeed. That handsome bastard looked even more handsome when he was annoyed, for some reason, and well…there was no harm in merely appreciating the sight for a bit, was there?

“Oh, don’t mind me, I just realized that I have a strong, practically unstoppable warrior elf at my side, who will protect this apostate if he ends up in distress, cornered by the forces of evil, and now I am”—he made sure to linger on the word and wiggle his eyebrows—“e _njoying_ the thought.”

He’d expected a huff or at least another eye roll of condensed condescension. What he got was a long pause. And then, finally, a frown.

“You only realize this now?” There was another pause, shorter, and Anders could have sworn, sharper. “You really thought I would stand by and let them lock you up, didn’t you?”

Anders felt his mouth go dry. Did Fenris actually look…hurt? He didn’t, of course, his face hardly ever betrayed any emotion, but…somewhere beneath that veneer of calm, was there a tiny flicker of betrayal?

_For a moment there, I was even convinced you told them we were coming. A tiny, tiny part of me is still not entirely sure you didn’t…_

The truth would definitely not make this less awkward. And Fenris would not fall for a lie. Best to stick to the usual: tease and annoy until his desire to smack you drowns out everything else. But first, he had to at least offer some sort of explanation. And worse, an apology.

“It…crossed my mind, yes. And…I’m sorry. You agreed to come along and let me try to change your mind, you“—this part was even harder than apologising—“do not deserve this.”

When Fenris didn’t reply, Anders shrugged and plastered his widest and most irritating grin on his face. “Perhaps I need to be…punished. You might not want to see me locked up, but I bet you’d like a meek little mage servicing you, no matter what you claim.”

_Well, that should do it…_

Fenris nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps you could be of service. You have indeed been naughty.”

Anders blinked for what he realized was an absurdly long time.

Fenris looked at him, face giving away nothing, and shrugged.

“Eh…come again?”

Another shrug. “You run your mouth so much I assumed it had to be enjoyable. I thought I’d try.” The taunt dripped from his lips like sap from a tree.

To Anders’ credit, he recovered quickly.

“Aaand…?” He flashed Fenris yet another broad, if slightly shaky, grin.

“Not bad. But I could think of a better use for _your_ mouth. One that is…punishing.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“A little.”

“You might regret this.” He put on his widest grin yet. “If you think my weakness for strong, handsome”—did Fenris’ ears just perk up—“warriors who can and will crush the heart of every Templar that dares to lay a hand on me is bad, I’ll have you know it’s _nothing_ compared to the effect a gravelly, bossy voice has on me. Just ask my friend in the Wardens, he’ll tell you all about it. In as much detail as you like.” Lifting his head to peer through the window once more, he could see Meredith marching through the courtyard inspecting her troops, taking care to examine every single Templar personally. Well, that would take her a while. “And when that haughty voice commands me while its owner has his way with my delicate mage body—“

Fenris huffed. “You knocked out three bandits with your staff yesterday. You are hardly ‘delicate’.”

_He noticed that…?_

“My, Fenris, I had no idea you were watching me so closely in battle. Did you notice I am quite bendy too?”

“Is there a point to all this?”

“Well…” Anders indicated the Templars down in the courtyard with a brief nod of his head. “The _point_ is that it’s been shamefully long since I’ve been ravished next to an oblivious throng of Templars.”

Deep furrows creasing his forehead, Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Since? Is that a frequent pastime of yours? Sounds like a dangerous habit.”

“ _Well_ …” he drew the word out deliberately. “Let’s just say the one – and only – thing I miss about living in the Circle is defiling the Knight Commander’s office. Which _just so happens_ to be right across the hall from this one. While _she_ just so happens to be down there inspecting her troops. Her office also happens to have a rather sturdy and…roomy desk. Perfect for naughty mages to crouch under while a mighty warrior blocks the exit with his _sword_ , gets my bratty mouth all nice and full, stretched to the brim, the way you do with wayward mages who don’t show sufficient gratitude to the strong warrior who came to save them. And when the naughty mage has polished the warrior’s blade to his satisfaction, the warrior – he’s an incredibly strong elf by the way, did I mention that – hauls the errant little apostate back to his feet and bends him – me – over the desk, right on top of the Knight Commander’s orders of tyranny. Then he pushes up his robes, tears down his pants, leaving his ass on display, ripe for the taking. You know, it’s also been shamefully long since I had a nice, juicy cock shoved all the way inside me, too—“

“I see we have abandoned the metaphors,” Fenris cut in. Was it just Anders’ imagination, or was there an unusually hoarse quality to his voice?

_Imagination, wishful thinking, same difference…_

Anders made a show of shrugging. “Sometimes you just have to say it like it is. A thick cock pounding into me, stretching me, spreading me wide open, filling me until I’m a whimpering mess, crying out your name every time your balls slap against my hungry flesh, until I finally leave a lovely little present for Meredith all across her desk - and still you’d show me no mercy. After all, it’s your just reward for saving my ungrateful ass: pounding it like there is no tomorrow. All yours, hands behind my back, firmly in your grip, with my ass high in the air. I’d be utterly powerless in your mighty grasp, my fearsome warrior… Well, alright, not powerless, but I wouldn’t use them. I’d be at your every whim, following every command like a good little mage, nothing but a tight hole to do with as you please, as you fuck me right under their clueless noses…” He trailed off. The image had become a bit too delicious for the cut of his trousers.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist indulging the fantasy just a tiny bit longer. And the ensuing pause gave him ample time to do that.

Finally, Fenris spoke. “And what makes you think I would partake in something this lewd and dangerous - with _you_?”

_Of course you wouldn’t, I’m not that lucky. My desk-fucking, office-defiling days are long past but hey, a guy can dream, can’t he? Besides, I’m an old man, annoying you is one of the few pleasures I have left._

Probably not the best answer. There might be something to be said for honesty, sure, but: more teasing, more fun.

He shrugged, a perfect imitation of casualness. “Well, nothing. But then again, there was no reason to think you’d go along with smuggling mages out of the Gallows either – and look where we are. Seems like even the most predictable package of boring broodiness will surprise you every now and then, so who knows…maybe you do actually know how to use that sword of yours after all…”

This time, the silence that followed was considerably shorter. For a couple of seconds, Fenris sat stock-still (Anders wasn’t even sure he was breathing), then he wordlessly got up, walked over to the door and pressed his ear against it. Apparently satisfied with what he heard – or more likely _didn’t_ hear – he opened it a crack and peered into the hall. Once again, his finding seemed to be as hoped for, given that he then proceeded to open it fully, walk across the hallway and repeat the process on the door to Meredith’s office.

At last, he opened it and stepped inside.

“Are you coming?” he asked, looking over his shoulder, his voice the epitome of indifference. “Or should I take care of my blade myself?”

 

Oh yes, Anders came.

They both did.

Twice.

 

* * *

 

So they knew about the Gallows.

Anders tried to subtly shift his weight around the uncomfortable pressure of the spike, rock or whatever else it was that held this place together, without straying so far from the wall that he’d be visible from inside the room.

_Fenris is not going to be amused. Not at all._

But on the bright side, they _only_ knew about the Gallows. _That_ at least should please Fenris. Bending the naughty mage over the Knight Commander’s desk was one thing, easily excused as danger-induced arousal, one moment of weakness quickly forgotten and never to be repeated. If Fenris had been confronted with all the _other_ times since then, however, he’d already have stormed out of there in a fit of furious denial (and most likely redecorated Varric’s walls in the process).

“I must say I’m surprised Fenris. I would not have expected you to agree to such a proposal.” _Oh, of course you wouldn’t, go polish your belt buckle._ “You must know that…”

Varric was obviously no more interested in hearing the end of that sentence than Anders. “So, Elf,” he cheerfully talked over Sebastian’s mutterings, “did Blondie succeed in showing you the horrors of the Circle? Did he blow your mind?”

The smug bastard actually fucking _chuckled_ at that. “Not my _mind_ , no.”

_Yes, joke all you want, but you did hear the whippings. I saw your expression, you bloody hypocrite, and the way you froze when you saw the stocks. You were only too eager to get out of there. And who told me to check the mages’ backs for injuries when we had them out of the tunnels? Who insisted I heal them? Dismiss me and what we shared all you want, but you did see more than you bargained for in there. You learned things you rather wouldn’t have known, no matter how much you try to deny it. It’s no wonder you were looking for a distraction._

_Or well…I guess we both were._

“The Knight Commander’s office…” Hawke’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality. “That is rather…inspired…” He cleared his throat abruptly. “And _dangerous_. Maker’s breath, Fenris, someone could have seen you.”

“Someone _did_ see them, Hawke,” Aveline huffed.

_The look on Orsino’s face…Priceless._

“Right. You’re lucky it wasn’t a Templar.”

“In fact, you’re lucky you made it out of there at all.” _Ah, good old Aveline, all stern disapproval and no fun._ “I hope it was worth it.”

“It was.”

Judging by the sudden silence in the room, Anders wasn’t the only one who was stunned by that frank admission. It had been delivered calmly, like a fact there was to be no arguing with – and miraculously, no one argued.

Hawke was the first to regain his speech. Obviously taking great care to keep his voice neutral, he asked, “And…since then? It’s been several weeks. Have you…sought out our lyrium lady’s office again?”

“No.”

Yep, that was more like Fenris.

But apparently, the elf wasn’t finished.

“Why take such a risk. There are plenty of other suitable places in this city.” He didn’t try to titillate, didn’t teasingly linger on some of the words the way Anders would have done had he been the one to drop such a fireball in their midst. His voice sounded as casual and disinterested as ever, and the tone didn’t change when he added, “Regarding this – apologies for breaking your vase, Aveline. I shall replace it.”

“You…. _you_ were the vandals that trashed my office?!” Aveline spluttered, falling over her words. “And ruined my reports, the rosters….the spilled inks, the stains, that…that was… This isn’t over Fenris! And when I find Anders…”

Her voice was drowned out as Hawke chuckled with unabashed glee. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice them! Oh valiant Captain of the Guard.”

“Like you noticed us in your library?” Fenris’ tone was as neutral as before, but he did let enough mockery shine through to once again make the whole room fall silent.

This time, Aveline was first to speak again.

“You were saying, Champion?”

Compared to Aveline’s reaction, Hawke sounded weary rather than scandalized. “Maker’s hairy ballsack, is there any semi-public surface you _haven’t_ bent him over?”

“Of course. The ones he’s bent me over.”

Anders could practically hear everyone shift in their seats as Varric muttered, “I’ll pass on the details concerning my suite, thanks.”

Anders would have revelled in their shocked silence (and Isabela’s soft chuckle of delight) if he hadn’t been feeling more and more stunned himself with every passing minute. He’d feared for his life when he realized they had been found out – and there Fenris was, casually imparting the details of their sexual escapades to all of their friends. Apparently, fucking a mage was _not_ something he considered shameful.

_Who would have thought…_

“So the two of you are what, partners-in-fuck now?”

Count on Isabela to take “as awkward as it could possibly get” and make it more awkward.

“Oh no, they’re in love, that’s why he keeps making sad puppy eyes at Anders….No, at Anders’ back…that’s not terribly helpful, is it?”

_Thanks, Merrill, please continue, make him kill me after all._

“There are _no_ puppy eyes.”

Hawke, who obviously sensed the dangerous edge to Fenris’ voice, showed decidedly more concern for the survival of everyone involved as he took over the prodding. “So you two aren’t…an item?”

“We have not discussed it.”

Anders couldn’t actually see any of them from his hiding spot, but it was the sound Fenris’ voice took on when he shrugged.

_Since when do I know him well enough to notice things like that?_

“So you’re saying it is an option? You can’t be seriously considering…!” Sebastian made no attempt to hide his incredulity. Nor his disdain.

_Well. Thanks. Go fondle your crotch piece some more, why don’t you._

“It is too early to say. But…it is possible. I would not rule it out.”

“But…but you hate him,” Sebastian pressed on.

Hawke began to mutter in the background, “Well, ‘hate’ is a pretty strong word,” but Fenris cut him off.

“I do not. He annoys me.” He hesitated briefly. “Mostly. Not always.”

“I bet ‘not always’ is when he’s balls deep inside you, eh? I tell you, that’s the kind of staff that makes you forget even the bloodiest argument, and he knows how to use it too. Oh, the stories I could tell…No, that _we_ could tell, right, Fenris?” The creaking of chairs suggested she was draping herself over Fenris shoulder. “Does he still swing it in full force now that he’s gone all dark and serious? And what about his special twirl?”

“There is no cause for complaint.”

“And—“

“And any further details are, and shall remain, private.”

“Spoilsport.”

It went back and forth like that between them for a while. The others soon joined in, either probing Fenris for details or desperately trying to steer the conversation to purer shores, but Anders was no longer paying any real attention. He caught the odd giggle or insult, yet his mind was busy racing through what he had just overheard. Again, and again, and again.

Fenris had not outright said _no_. He’d said he wouldn’t rule it out - in front of everyone they knew. From Fenris that was…well, not exactly a _yes_ either, but…he was considering it. Actually considering it. _Them_. Even though Anders was a mage, despite Justice and that whole Gallows debacle, he was allowing the possibility for more.

_He…likes me? He does, doesn’t he, he must like me at least a little, enough for a chance at more…_

But – could they actually have _more_?

And would Anders even want it?

* * *

 

Fenris’ shoulders were hunched - probably as much from the constant pressure of his giant sword (well, one of his giant swords) as from the day’s exertions - as he walked next to Hawke at the front of their little group, up a steep incline that put his pert little ass exactly at Anders’ eye level.

Anders’ bit back a sigh, and a couple of curses. As if he needed another incentive to stare, Andraste’s drooling mabari, he’d done nothing _but_ all day - so much so that he’d almost forgotten to heal his companions a couple of times, mesmerized by long limbs cleaving through their enemies, ethereal blue glowing beneath pristine white hair flowing in the wind…Alright, there were a few specks of blood staining the white but working with Hawke, that was something you just got used to.

He’d wanted to bury his fingers in that hair, not to grip and pull, but to caress, to gently massage the weariness of a long day out of his scalp, tuck stray strands behind his ears and place a soft kiss on their tips. And Maker be his witness, he still did. Even more than he wanted to grab that enticing little piece of ass.

He’d tried so hard not to become attached. The naughty mage and the taciturn stranger with his imposing blade, that was all this was supposed to be, just like in the old days.

Except he hadn’t really been good at that then either, had he? Always too sentimental for his own good. But this time, he’d come so close. Quick trysts in dangerous locations, and then back to this cause and his clinic. A healer, and the sole voice speaking on behalf of mages, _that_ was who he was now, the only thing that truly mattered. He was all these people had; he didn’t have time for dreams about falling asleep together, sharing breakfast, stargazing nights and soft smiles. He couldn’t allow himself to indulge in such fantasies.

So for once in his life, he didn’t.

Well, at least not often. Hardly ever, really. The rules had been clear. And then the bloody elf had to open his pretty mouth and be _kind_ , of all things. Honest. Almost…affectionate, as far as Fenris could ever be called such.

Granted, he hadn’t been any of these things to his face. Anders had made it out of the Hanged Man without being noticed, and when he’d returned a couple of hours later, they’d long dropped the issue.

They hadn’t brought it up again. In fact, no one had so much as dropped a hint or a knowing glance his way yet, which he assumed meant they were waiting to get him alone and then spring the same kind of surprise attack on him as they had on Fenris.

_First they grill him, then me, and then, a few weeks later, when they’ve lulled us into a false sense of security, they’ll swoop down on us when we least expect it._

_“So, Anders, what exactly are your intentions with our favourite broody elf? Are you two just fucking”—_ that _was_ how they’d do it, wasn’t it, they wouldn’t even pretend to be asking, just throw it at him like the known fact that it was _—“or is it more?”_

Well, that was a good fucking question indeed.

Anders still wasn’t entirely sure “more” was even on the table, but…Fenris had made an effort. He’d taken a big step, by his standards, even if it had been behind Anders’ back. He’d defended him; he’d told the world that he wasn’t entirely annoyed with an _apostate_ and would continue to stand behind him (or in front of him…or underneath…). Fenris had stood up for him, in his own way. He’d tried.

The least Anders could do was to try as well, to at least explore the possibility, determine whether there might be a chance. That tiny leap of his heart, the flutter when he’d seen Fenris lately, perhaps it was time to stop fighting it, throw caution to the wind and touch as softly as he’d longed to, smile instead of snarl, follow his foolish heart like he used to before he got old and bitter.

And scared. So fucking scared.

His heart might have been just as foolish then, but it hadn’t been nearly as brittle. Yet Fenris’ heart wasn’t exactly without scars either, and _he_ had been brave. Anders would be too. He owed him that much.

Besides, he couldn’t let Fenris beat him at this. Foolish, hopeless crushes were _his_ specialty.

Perhaps “more” truly wasn’t possible. No, it was almost _definitely_ not possible. But at least Fenris wouldn’t be able to blame it on Anders’ lack of trying.

Before this all collapsed like the booze-soaked house of cards that it was, he could give Fenris, and himself, at least _something_. A bit of tenderness, one tiny moment of genuine affection. Something to remember him by, as more than just “a mage I fucked”.

 

* * *

 

They’d located the bandit camp Aveline had sent them to take care of and disposed of its heavily armoured (and poorly washed) inhabitants. While not exactly challenging, the fight had nevertheless stretched on for almost an hour - what their opponents lacked in skill, they more than made up for in numbers.

And now these numbers lay mangled and strewn about the ground, staining the sand beneath them a dark, muddy red. There had to be close to forty bodies out there, and half that amount of tents, meaning it would take another hour to strip the camp. Possibly even longer, considering they were in the company of Hawke, who would gleefully pocket every single thing he could carry, no matter how ruined or useless. And indeed, he was already busy running from one sliced-up corpse to the next, arms full of trash he insisted could still “benefit someone”.

Fenris was only a couple of feet away, not yet taking part in the looting but surveying their surroundings. He looked beautiful in the orange glow of the evening sun. Softer. Fragile, almost. A tiny dot of white, red and brown, breathing and vibrant in the midst of all this death and silence.

Wordlessly, Anders took a step forward, grabbed Fenris’ hand and pulled him along behind one of the bigger tents near the outer rim of the camp. It had been set up next to a boulder and, more importantly, already looted by Varric, which meant they should be shielded from view and undisturbed sufficiently (and long) enough for him to express his…gratitude.

Fenris followed his lead without protest, although he did give him a puzzled look when Anders pushed up against him, pressing him into the corner between the rock and the back wall of the tent.

“With the others around? That is new.”

“They won’t notice we’re missing. Look at the size of this camp, they’ll be busy looting themselves to the Maker’s bosom.”

“Am I to take that to mean _you_ are not in need of coin?” Fenris cocked his head, eyebrows raised. There was a gentle, melodic sort of teasing beneath the words as one side of his mouth curved into something resembling a smile.

“I can miss one looting. Some things are more important. Like you.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed slightly, but Anders didn’t give him time to dwell on it, pulling him into a kiss. He made it softer than usual, exploring, lingering. Slightly out of breath, he pulled Fenris even closer, until there was just enough room between them to slide a hand down his leggings. The tight garment didn’t exactly make for easy access, but Anders had no regards for comfort, impatient to touch him, to _feel_ him… Hotter than the rest of his skin and already half-hard, aching to be touched, for _his_ touch, thick and straining in his hand, all his for that one, glorious moment…

He almost sighed in relief when his fingers finally brushed against Fenris’ cock. As he curled them around it, he kissed him again, this time with slightly more insistence. With a playful little nip to his bottom lip, he eventually pulled back and began to stroke him in earnest. He watched as Fenris began to blink rapidly, mouth falling open, into a small, unspoken “oh”, felt himself grow painfully hard as Fenris bit his lip to keep the sound from spilling out, sharp teeth digging into soft flesh where Anders’ own had been just moments before…

His hand involuntarily began to move faster and it took great effort to force himself to let go, but when he did, he was immediately rewarded with a low, affronted grunt that, again, went straight to his cock. He was just as eager to continue as Fenris, perhaps more so; nevertheless, he took the time to unlace his leggings and push them down his thighs. It would ruin the gift he was trying to give him if it ended with Fenris being forced to walk around in his own mess for hours afterwards.

Time-consuming as it was, freeing him from his leathery prison also gave Anders better access and more room to work with - enough space to gently roll Fenris’ balls between his fingers, to slide his hand from one end to the other with gentle pressure and watch him squirm in needy anticipation. Anders took his time to enjoy the soft curses in Tevene that accompanied each touch before he slowly, ever so very slowly let his hand trail upwards. As he finally wrapped his fingers around the tip, gathering moisture, and began to tug, his other hand reached up to brush a few loose strands of hair out of Fenris’ eyes and tuck them behind his ears. He bent down to kiss his forehead, his nose, giving it a soft nudge with his own before he claimed his mouth again. Not for the first time since they had begun doing whatever it was they were doing, he was struck by how easily Fenris opened up for him, yielding to his tongue without the slightest hint of resistance as though there was not even a hint of doubt he was welcome. He deliberately crowded him, pushing him up against the wall, kissing him until they had no breath left – and then kissing him a little more. All the while, he kept the rhythm of his hand steady, working him at a fast pace, occasionally alternating between merciless pumping and gentler, slower strokes. He made sure to keep pleasuring him as he pulled back for air, as he allowed himself a moment to revel in the dazed expression on Fenris’ face. And, more importantly, the fact that he was allowed to see it. That Fenris _let_ himself be seen like this, his face open, unguarded, like a secret gift just for him. It was impossible to look away. As Anders picked up speed, careful not to go too roughly on the heated skin, his eyes were fixed on Fenris’ face, and they remained glued to it through all the times he broke the rhythmic pattern of his hand to stroke his fingers over his balls or thighs, or tease the skin just above his rim, and every time his free hand reached up as if on its own accord to trace his fingers along the line of Fenris’ jaw or twine them into his hair.

And Fenris was staring right back at him. Again and again, his eyes would threaten to slip shut around a low moan – and again and again, he’d force them back open, keeping them trained on Anders’ own. Pupils blown wide, his eyes were a bright, shimmering green full of fragile trust and questions. Anders could see them lurking there, could sense his confusion as he hastened to kiss them away. When he felt the tension build in Fenris’ body, the slight tremble in his limbs, Anders pulled him closer, angling him so that he was facing the rock with their shoulders touching and the arm that wasn’t busy pumping his cock wrapped around his waist. He watched as Fenris’ hand shot up, clasping over his mouth, his head rolling back, eyes finally falling shut, and did his best to make sure the majority of the mess ended up on the rock. He held him until he stopped shaking, barely even aware that he was peppering his hair with kisses, then dropped to his knees, quickly licked him clean and placed a single, fluttering kiss on the oversensitive skin, resulting in a soft hiss from above. When he was satisfied with his work, he tucked him back in and laced everything up properly.

Nodding to himself, he grinned up at Fenris. “There, as good as new.”

As he stood up, Fenris’ hand immediately darted towards his crotch, but Anders caught it mid-motion and brought it to his lips instead.

“It’s alright,” he said between fleeting kisses to each knuckle, “this one was just for you. We should get back to the others before they look up from their bountiful booty long enough to notice we’re gone.”

Fenris frowned. “Did you drink too many lyrium potions again? If you are having difficulties we can—“

“What? No! I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much. It’s just…I just wanted to make you feel good.” He bit his lip around a brief pause. “You deserve it.”

Since the last part had come out slightly more mumbled and awkward than he would have liked, he tried to cover the moment up with one last brief kiss. Then he turned and set off towards the others, glad that his coat was long enough to cover just how _capable_ he really was. Walking would be uncomfortable for a while, but it was worth it just for that expression of pure bliss on Fenris’ face.

“And what if I wish to make _you_ feel good as well?”

He glanced over his shoulder at Fenris, who glared at him with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well,” he said, trying his best to sound casual, “in that case we could try that position I mentioned… Remember, the one you were so curious about? Perhaps tonight at…your place? As it, you know, is much easier to manage on an actual bed.”

“You…wish to come to the mansion. Alone. Tonight.” The words came out slowly, as though every single one was a cause for great confusion.

Well, so much for that. Not that it came as a surprise. Time to escape with as much of his dignity intact as possible.

Still only half-facing Fenris, Anders shrugged. “It was just an idea. If it bothers you, we can simply try it in Sebastian’s quarters next week. I hear Hawke’s taking him along to Sundermount, that should give us more than enough time to sneak in and back out.”

_And to leave him a sticky “welcome home” present while we’re at it._

Delightful as the thought was, it was a poor recompense for just having been thoroughly rejected.

“It does not…bother me,” Fenris cut in, brow furrowed. “You are welcome to visit.”

“Oh. Oh, I thought…alright. So, I’ll see you…tonight?”

Fenris gave him a curt nod. “Yes. Tonight.” His eyes were barely more than slits, focusing on Anders’ face with an odd, unsettling intensity.

As Anders hurried to re-join the others – both so as not to arouse their suspicion and to escape the awkwardness of the situation – he could still feel them burning holes into his back.


End file.
